


Roanoke

by philophrosynae



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Colony America, Comfort, Horror, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:01:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23986465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/philophrosynae/pseuds/philophrosynae
Summary: Colonial America meets one of his first people for a second time.
Relationships: America/England (Hetalia)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 26





	Roanoke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Rotifora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rotifora/gifts).



> A rewrite of the first fic I ever wrote!! I found this one when I was looking through the files on my old computer for some other fics. It was overdue for a touch up.
> 
> A gift for rotifora for being such a wonderful friend over the years. Thank you for being so supportive of me and my writing, I wouldn't be here without you!!

“Do not move from this spot.”

“Mmhmm.”

“America. Look at me. Are you listening?”

“Yes, England. ‘Do not move from this spot,’” he looked up at his caretaker from beneath his bangs with a grin, “I’ll stay here in the shallow bits.”

America crouched down and stuck a small finger into the water to disturb the dancing tadpoles. They had traveled south as a pair to the Tidewater region of the colony of Virginia to inspect the settlers. After that, they planned to continue on to Jamestown and slowly work their way along the James River. Eventually they would head back north to Maryland and then Pennsylvania. It was a long trip, but America was thrilled to be on a journey with England. The nurses and house servants England left him with during his long absences rarely allowed America to leave the home. They had a tendency to treat him as his physical age instead of his actual age, a source of unending aggravation to the boy.

“No, lovely,” they’d chide, “Mister Kirkland said to keep you close and safe. We can’t do that if you’re dancing in the Virginia wilderness on your own.”

From there he would huff and cry. He rarely realized his mini tantrums were only proving their assumptions right on his maturity.

“I’ll only be gone a half hour at most,” England lectured from behind him. “If you aren’t here when I return, so help me --”

“I will be, I will be,” America bounced back to where England was standing beside his discarded shoes and stockings and hugged the man around his legs, pressing his face into his coat. “You’re the one who’s always leaving. I stay.”

“Don’t start that now. We’ve several weeks before I need to head home. I would be taking you along with me to this farm if you had not tried to drag an entire cow across town at our last stop. You frightened your people half to death. We won’t make it very far if I have to continually convince people you are not a little witch.”

“I’m not a witch,” America grumbled in pouty embarrassment.

England leaned down and pressed a quick kiss to the top of his head and ruffled his hair before disentangling his legs from America’s grasp.

“I mean it, America. Stay. I don’t want you chasing rabbits and ending up half way to Carolina.”

“I promise!”

England walked back to their horse where it had been tied beside a tree and left. America watched until he disappeared behind a bend and turned back to the tadpoles.

“It’s not like I didn’t walk around on my own all the time before I met him. They act like I’m six years old.”

Which he was. Technically. Sort of. But not really. His new friends danced happy circles around his fingertips before they attracted a fish and fled.

“That was mean of you,” he grumbled at the carp, “We were dancing.”

He watched as the fish swam back upstream and let out a huff, his wayward curl bouncing with the movement. It was hot in the sun and he wished he had found a place to play with more shade. There were trees along the stream and pond, but they were covered in the sorts of vines and mosses that attracted the creepiest of crawlies and America wasn’t in the mood to be covered in bugs.

“Dancing?”

“The tadpoles were --” America interrupted himself upon realizing he had an audience.

A young woman stood behind him. Her head was tucked beneath a hat to protect her from the sun and a well-worn shawl covered her shoulders. She was presumably a colonist from a nearby settlement.

“Tadpoles?” she laughed.

“Yes…” he was slightly embarrassed now that he knew he hadn’t been alone. “England left me behind so I was playing with them. If you are slow enough, they spin around your finger when you stick it in the water instead of running away.”

“That sounds like fun. Your friend’s name is England? The one on the horse just now?”

“Ah, yes. It’s... I’m not supposed to explain it to strangers.”

He was also supposed to use their human names when talking to other people, but it was too late for that now.

“My apologies, dear! I don’t want us to be strangers. My name is Eleanor. I was traveling with my husband and daughter. What is your name?”

“America!” He puffed up excitedly as his mood swung back upwards. He was happy to be introducing himself to one of his people without the aid of his caretakers.

“My, you have a unique name too!”

“Ah... I guess.”

“It’s lovely, don’t be embarrassed,” she kneeled down in the grass beside him, tucking her equally worn skirts beneath her knees. It appeared her trip had been a long one.

“You said you were traveling with your family, ma’am?”

“Yes, my husband and my daughter, Virginia. You’ve the same hair as my Virginia,” he couldn’t quite see her face but she seemed to smile at that and tilted her head towards his curl, “lovely, lovely.”

The woman reached out her hand as if to touch but curled it back and tucked it under her shawl instead. Even in the heat she was wearing threadbare gloves. She was clearly a Proper Lady, the kind who liked curtseys and pleasantries despite her new more agrarian surroundings. Some of the colonists were like that. Their children had more relaxed dispositions, but the new arrivals held on to quite a few of their Old World traditions. America enjoyed talking to them. They reminded him of England.

But he really didn’t want a stranger touching him.

“They’re waiting for me,” the woman continued. “But I had a few things to take care of first.”

“I hope I’m not keeping you, ma’am?” America blushed and fought the urge to shy away from her.

_ She’s one of my people. She’s just being nice. England will be happy when I tell him that I was bonding with one of my people. _

“Not at all, lovely,” she hid her grin behind her gloved hand, “I needed a bit of a rest.”

“How has your trip been?”

He was proud of himself for not blurting: You look exhausted. That would be rude. England would also be very proud of him when he told him about it later. But the truth was that she did look exhausted. She kept her head down and had a severe slouch that kept her torso curved in towards her lower body. She also looked painfully thin. America considered inviting her and her family to dinner when England returned. England would like that. He liked it when America was considerate. And America liked helping people in need.

“Long. The three of us were leaving... I believe you call it Carolina? We had a settlement there.”

“Yes, Carolina is nice. We are in Virginia now. It’s like your daughter!” 

Being polite  _ and  _ teaching one of his people about geography! America was doing quite well for himself today.

“Indeed it is,” she laughed behind her hand again, “would you like to meet her?”

“Now?”

“Yes, they aren’t far.”

Eleanor pressed her hand against his arm. She was freezing. America suddenly understood the need for the shawl and gloves. She felt strange. Distant. He knew she was one of his people, but she didn’t feel like she was. Perhaps she still felt a closer connection to her old country? It was something new, he would ask England about it when he got back.

“England said I should stay. He’ll be back in a bit. I’ll introduce you and he can meet your family too!”

“Oh, I would like that very much! Unfortunately, I do not have that long... How about I promise we’ll be done before England returns? I can promise that,” she smiled sweetly and America realized why she continued to cover her mouth, the poor woman had already lost most of her teeth. “You do look very much like my Virginia. She’s a bit younger than you but you could be her brother! You can tell me about your England along the way?”

America tugged lightly at the grass at his feet to keep from shying away from her touch. He wanted to find an excuse to leave. But she looked so lonely and had been traveling a long time. Besides, England had always said to treat his people well. Meeting her family might make her happy. Then America could explain that he was taking care of his people if England got angry at him for leaving. He looked towards the river, noticing his fishy friends had all apparently swam away for good.

“I won’t be able to stay long, but I would like to say ‘hello’ to Miss Virginia,” he turned to her with his bright grin, the one that his nurse said would be “dangerous” when he was older before England shushed her.

“Wonderful! Truly wonderful, my lovely,” she held out her hand as she stood, “it’s almost time for our tea.”

America took her hand and struggled to hold back the shudder.

“You promised you’d tell me of your England, my lovely.”

“Yes! He’s a good person. He has been taking care of me! He has lots of books and he is strong and brave and keeps the awful things away at night.”

“I wish I could tell him what a wonderful job he has done of it then, such a lovely child,” she smiled toothlessly at him, “lovely, lovely. Are you two related? He is your cousin or brother, perhaps?”

“Um, no. He sort of found me?”

“Ah! Like I found you!” she laughed again as they walked past his shoes and stockings.

“Miss Eleanor? Those are mine. I would not want to be rude and meet Miss Virginia barefoot. Not that I wanted to meet you barefoot!”

He was becoming more anxious by the second but couldn’t figure out why. Eleanor was, by all appearances, just being kind to the young boy she found by the water. America tried to calm himself down. It made sense that she would be excited to introduce her daughter to another child. Every parent liked for their children to have playmates. 

“It’s fine, lovely,” she tugged him along. “we’ll be quick about it. You won’t be needing those. Do you have any siblings then? If your England is not your relative.”

“Ah! Yes! Canada is my twin! He’s quiet though.”

“So you are a matching set? How sweet! With such fantastic names!”

America smiled at her enthusiasm. Talking about his family was something that always made him happy. The warm grass felt nice beneath his feet but he wasn’t looking forward to walking down the road without shoes.

“You said you were from Carolina, Miss Eleanor?”

He hoped she didn’t plan on taking him all the way there. England had specifically marked that as a place not to go on his own but she seemed to be tugging him westwards along the river, towards the hills.

“Yes, yes. That is where we lived. I am originally from London, however.”

“London! That’s where England lives! He promised to show me his home someday when I am old enough for the trip,” he grinned again. 

That explained why she felt different. She must be one of England’s people too. America looked back at his stockings, embarrassed he would be meeting one of his and England’s people without them. But as he looked back at his shadow, he noticed something was amiss. He then tried to slow down their pace, gently so as to not frighten Eleanor with his strength, but she only pulled him along more forcefully in response. 

“Miss Eleanor?” he kept his eyes trained on the ground behind them as she tugged. He tried to find an excuse to turn around. “Miss Eleanor, I really do think I should have my shoes.”

“Do not worry, lovely!”

“I really think it would be better if I had them so can we--”

“It’s fine! I promise.” 

Her gaping grin was unsettling and America was starting to panic. He knew he had made a mistake. Trying to find another way to delay or distract the woman who was clutching his arm, he started another line of questions. Maybe if she were distracted, she would loosen her grip and he could run.

“Where in Carolina did you say you were from Miss Eleanor? The northern bit or one of the islands, maybe?”

“An island settlement, lovely. Roanoke.”

And she was so  _ cold _ .

“Roanoke has been gone a long time, Miss Eleanor…”

He tugged his hand but she held fast. It hadn’t quite been a hundred years, but--

“You look like the little boy who would watch us from the bushes,” she was pulling him up the hill now. His bare feet were cutting on the stones and pebbles, “he was so sweet! I wanted him to meet my Virginia. My Virginia.”

America began to cry. 

“Miss Eleanor, please let me go back!” he tugged more violently at her hand and tried to slip away, “England wanted me to stay and he gets scary when he’s mad! Please!”

“Were you the little boy? A green eyed man took him away too. You’ll meet my Virginia, my lovely. You aren’t one of the Croatans or Secotans, my lovely? Where did you come from? Were you made to meet us, my lovely?”

“Please stop! England will be mad!”

And America remembered that he had met Virginia before. 

“Please, Miss Dare! I have to go back to England! I promised,” he was sobbing now and knew he was acting like a child but he was scared and did not care. He had broken his promise, “I told him I would stay for him, please!”

“You know my name, lovely! I’m sorry, but you promised me as well. You promised to meet my Virginia. Were you the boy? The boy who watched us?” 

She tilted her head down, finally facing him fully, and America screamed.

“Stop! Please! England, I won’t break any more promises! Keep the ghosts away! You promised me!”

He frantically turned to look around him, looking for one of his friends but the animals had been smarter than him and fled. He tugged at her arm more frantically and swung his other arm round to hit her, but she grabbed him and pulled him close. Her strength was surprising. 

“So warm, my lovely. You were the boy! My Virginia will be happy to finally meet you. We fled and ran so far, but it didn’t work. There was no food here! None at all! We put her in the ground up the hill, my lovely, just up this hill.”

He couldn’t stop sobbing but he didn’t care. Those stupid tadpoles had to leave him and that mean carp scared them and now this ghost was going to eat him. And he would never see England’s house or get to meet his rabbit’s babies when they were born next season. He would never get to pull on Canada’s hair again and he wouldn’t get any more hugs from England and he would never get to say he was sorry for breaking his promise to stay.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry...”

“For what, my lovely?” she tilted his head back with her free arm, grabbing at his cowlick and causing her sleeve to slip down, exposing the bone, “My Virginia will be so happy to meet you. Is this about your stockings?”

He was looking up into what her face had become when a nasty crack resounded through the air. There was the smell of gunpowder and America noted how strange it was that he could suddenly see the trees behind her. But that was the last thing he remembered.

When he woke up it was dark. His face was pressed into a scratchy wool jacket that smelled of a familiar combination of tea, gunpowder, and the sea. Warm. It was England’s traveling coat. He had a matching cloak that America liked to steal and wrap himself up in during the winter months. He hated being cold. He had been so cold.

But then America remembered he had something to say.

“I’m sorry...”

“It’s alright, dearest.”

“But I broke my promise.”

“I have a feeling you will not be doing that again,” he felt the arm around him squeeze.

And now he was so warm and the hug was so nice that America allowed himself to fall back asleep.


End file.
